


3 in the morning

by Louuii



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dialogue Heavy, Getting Back Together, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louuii/pseuds/Louuii
Summary: “I miss you,” he says.Jaskier gives him a small smile, heart aching at the sight before him. “I know.”“Do you? Miss me, I mean.”A pause, then, “I don’t know. Sometimes, yes. But I’m learning. Moving on.”Or: Ex-boyfriend Geralt drunkenly comes knocking in Jaskier's apartment at 3 AM and he's tired in more ways than one. They talk.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 19
Kudos: 216





	3 in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Arctic Monkey's _Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?_ on loop and I thought of this. Just practicing my writing. Have some idiots trying to talk about their feelings! Rated M for language.
> 
> Unbeta'd like always.

Jaskier sighs as he answers his phone for the umpteenth tonight. He frowns. That’s not right. It must be one in the _morning_ by now. “Yes?” he answers tiredly.

“ _Jask,_ ” the other person voices out from his phone, “how are you?”

The brunet bites his lower lip, wondering how to play this out. His weight is supported by the headboard, comfortably leaning on it with a book near him since Jaskier has long given up trying to go back to sleep when his ex has done nothing but constantly call him.

“Geralt, you’re drunk,” he scolds without heat.

“I miss you.”

His heart twinges in his chest. “You said that already.”

“Did I?” There’s a sniffle, and then, “But I do. I really do. When can we meet again?”

Jaskier closes his eyes, trying to summon strength, and combs through his hair in exasperation. “We talked about this, Geralt. We broke up four months ago, remember? We’re still friends but it’s not the same anymore. Things are different now,” he explains, gently as he can like he usually does. Always careful with Geralt, no matter what.

“I— I want to have what we had before—”

“Geralt,” he cuts in, “you’re _drunk_. You don’t know what you’re saying. Let’s not do this. Not again, and certainly not at this time, alright? We’ve already said our piece before. Let’s try to be good friends, hmm?”

“No—”

“Stay close with Eskel and Lambert, please. I want you all to get home safely, okay? Good night, Geralt.”

And before he can utter another word, Jaskier ends the call and turns his phone off as well for good measure. He’s been entertaining Geralt’s drunken calls in the past two hours. Not out of pity or a moment of weakness, but it’s what he would do for a friend. God knows how many drunken calls _he_ made to his own friends. He’s thankful they’ve been patient with him. And since Jaskier is a _friend_ , he’d do the same for Geralt. But the man has increasingly become… _bold_ and heated conversations are brought forth.

Jaskier doesn’t want to talk about _them_ anymore nor does he want to think about it. _They_ were finished and it’s become of the past. _Now_ , they’re friends at best, and he wants it to keep it like that. There’s no need to bring feelings into the mix. It’ll only make things complicated. With a resigned sigh and a smarting headache, Jaskier decides he’ll just simply sleep it off and forget about it in the morning. He puts his book away and turns the bedside lamp off before he settles back in his bed again, blanket up to his chin.

Yes, he’ll forget about it and get a well-deserved rest. He’s had a long day and he wants to greet the weekend with a positive start. Jaskier sleeps as comfortably as he can.

***

He’s not sure what woke him up, but Jaskier blearily opens his eyes in confusion. He blinks twice then stretches his arms above him. Maybe he needed to pee? He doesn’t feel like he has the urge to do so, but he sits up nonetheless. His apartment is quiet and so is his neighborhood, like it usually is when it’s night. Or early in the morning. He wonders what time it is. Before he could even look at the alarm on his night table, there’s a knocking on his door. Jaskier frowns. That’s strange.

He glances at the neon red numbers on his clock and it reads 3:12 AM. Who the _fuck_ visits him at three in the morning? Jaskier debates whether he should ignore it not, but there’s another flurry of knocking with increasing loudness. He swears under his breath and scrambles to get up before his neighbor wakes up and curses at him. With a glare and quick footsteps, he wrenches his door open with an aggressiveness it didn’t deserve.

He opens his mouth to give the other person a piece of his mind but his words die when his sleepy brain has caught up with his eyes. Confusion washes over him as he awkwardly stands in his old and overworn large, yellow shirt and grey pyjamas at his doorway, staring at _Geralt_ who looks so effortlessly dashing in his all-black ensemble of a shirt, leather jacket, and jeans in front of his apartment in _three in the morning_. To say Jaskier is surprised is an understatement.

“Geralt?’ he says, blue eyes glancing at the man in front of him—barely standing by grabbing onto the doorframe—and at the side, checking if he came alone. “What brought you here at _three?_ Is… everything okay?” Geralt is looking down at his own shoes, the white locks of hair falling from his loose hair tie covering his face. Jaskier hears a soft mumble from him, but he couldn’t be sure. “What?”

With an inhale, he hears Geralt grunt, “I said, I miss you.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but groan in frustration, head in his hands. He mentally counts to ten before facing the other man again. “Christ, you’ll _definitely_ regret this when you’re sober,” Jaskier mutters. “Did you drive here?”

Geralt frowns. “No. I’m not stupid. I took a cab.”

The brunet lets out a sigh of relief. “Alright. I’ll call an Uber for you so wait _here_ ,” he says, then, “I’ll get some water to help you sober up a little, okay?” He doesn’t let Geralt in because that would _complicate_ things when his ex-boyfriend isn’t in his right mind and leaves him in front of his apartment with a slightly closed door.

Jaskier makes his way to his bedroom and turns his phone on, blinking at the missed calls from Eskel.

“Hey, Eskel,” Jaskier greets when the man has picked up the call after two rings. “You called?”

“Jaskier, sorry to disturb you, but—” the audio is cut off when Eskel curses and he hears some shuffling footsteps and grunts. He guesses it’s Lambert making a ruckus in the background, “Sorry, where was I? Ah, I think Geralt is on his way to your place.”

“Yeah, he’s here alright.”

“Shit. Sorry about that, Jask. I swear I kept my eyes on him, but I looked away just for a moment and he’s suddenly gone,” Eskel explains, genuinely apologetic. “You know I wouldn’t let him.”

He can’t help the smile tugging on his lips. “I know. I’m not mad, Eskel, don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll send him home with Uber.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll come and pick him up.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry. It’s what friends do.”

There’s a moment of silence, a mutual understanding between them. “Of course. I’m sorry about this, really. Thank you, Jask.”

“Any time, dear. Goodbye,” he says and the call ends.

Jaskier swipes through his phone and brings up the Uber app as he walks to his kitchen, meaning to get a glass of water for Geralt, but stops short when he sees said man lying on his sofa, face down on the cushions.

“No, no, no,” Jaskier hisses, immediately by Geralt’s side in a flash. “You will _not_ pass out here and I’m not giving you permission to do so! Wake up, Geralt! I swear to god, if you actually sleep here, there will be _hell_ to pay, you bastard!” He grunts as he tries to flip Geralt to his back, already out of breath. Jaskier’s build isn’t lean or weak by any means, but he sure isn’t built like a fucking _brick,_ unlike Geralt. “You and your fucking muscles!”

He straightens himself, hands on his hips, chest heaving up and down. Christ, he should be _in_ bed, not out of it trying to get his ex-boyfriend up from his couch. Jaskier glares at the man, peacefully passed out. “I might need to have Eskel come over after all,” Jaskier mutters to himself with a sigh, going back to his phone.

“I’m awake.”

Jaskier may or may not have slightly shrieked. With a hand on his chest, calming his heartbeat, he glares at Geralt. “You are a _bastard_ ; do you know that?” he snaps.

Geralt grumbles to himself as he sits up, combing his hair through.

“Right. If you were awake, you should say so! You didn’t have to put me through hell trying to flip you over!” Jaskier narrows his eyes. “When did you enter my apartment? I told you to wait _outside_.”

“Went inside when you were too busy talking with Eskel on the phone.”

“And you thought that was an invitation to come in?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Stay put, I’m sending you home.” Geralt grabs his hand before he could even lift his phone. He quirks a brow. “What?”

“Can we talk?” Geralt asks, voice gruff but not harsh.

“We _are_ talking.”

“No. Can we… _talk_.”

Jaskier sighs, “You’re drunk and it’s three in the morning, fuck. Let’s not do this, Geralt—”

“I’m not drunk,” he cuts in. “I mean, I was, but I’m awake now. Sober. I promise.”

“No. I’m not interested. I’m tired and we had this conversation before already—”

“ _Julian_. Please?”

Jaskier can’t always be strong. He can’t always be the man of reason between them. And everyone knows how weak he can get for Geralt. He sighs, giving in, and slumps down beside Geralt, his hand still clasped within his. Ex-boyfriends shouldn’t meet at three in the morning and hold hands, especially when one of them has been drunkenly calling the other and decided to pay a visit. For a while, Jaskier forgets that they broke up. That nothing changed between them, and he’s simply beside Geralt again under the pale moonlight. But he knows the reality. They both do. And so, with faux calm, he waits for Geralt to talk.

Geralt caresses the back of his hand with his thumb, slow and gentle like he always does. “I miss you,” he says.

Jaskier gives him a small smile, heart aching at the sight before him. “I know.”

“Do you? Miss me, I mean.”

A pause, then, “I don’t know. Sometimes, yes. But I’m learning. Moving on.” Geralt tightens his hold on his hand.

“I… I don’t want that. I don’t want _this_. To what has happened to us,” Geralt admits, his green eyes downcast but clear. “I want to get back together. I want you back.”

Jaskier gasps softly. Against his wishes, his heartbeat picks up and his throat tightens. “Geralt, you can’t just—”

“I _know_ ,” he cuts in, not to be cruel. Jaskier knows the man before him; knows he’s trying to say what he wants to convey before he shuts himself off again. “I know that Jask, I do. I’m not saying it’ll be like before if we are to get back again, but I want _us_. I don’t expect you to agree, of course. But I feel like I would regret it more than ever if I don’t say it now. If I wasn’t honest about this, about me still loving you.”

The brunet tries to blink away the mist in his eyes, stilling his trembling lower lip. “You still do?” Geralt frowns and looks at him.

“Of course, Jask. I never stopped.”

At this, Jaskier couldn’t help but pull away from him, curling over himself as he tries to calm himself down, to breathe, and stop his body from trembling. Jaskier still loves Geralt as well. _Of course_ , he does. And he wants to give in so bad, to throw himself to Geralt once again. But he remembers the reason they broke up. When Geralt had closed himself off that even _Jaskier_ couldn’t approach. He was worried and fussed over the man like he always does, but that day was different. Geralt was _angry_. Not only at himself and Jaskier, but at everything in the world and he lashed out. He spat out cruel words that Jaskier knew Geralt would never say to him, words he never _dreamt_ of being uttered by his boyfriend, no less. And he knew Geralt was hurting at the time, but Jaskier started to doubt. He doubted himself and Geralt.

He decided to break it off with him, two days after the incident, and Geralt agreed without much preamble, uninterested and nonchalant about everything. Jaskier was hurt by him, so badly, that he wondered if Geralt even loved him. Of course, Geralt did to some extent, but then doubts and insecurities swarm his mind, day in and day out. He couldn’t handle it if Geralt were to hurt him again like that in the future. It would definitely shatter him. It would be best for the both of them to break up instead. To save themselves from future heartaches. And yet, here they are. Months spent separated from one another, but they didn’t feel any better. Not at all. Simply become more miserable; an everyday heartache.

He’s trembling, this he knows, and he hugs himself tighter and swallows the sobs that want to escape. Christ, he’s so _tired_. “You can’t just do _this_. You can’t just hurt me one day then ask me to come back, months later. Did you know how badly your words cut through me? How much I doubted everything in our relationship. I couldn’t remain by your side when there’s a small voice in the back of my mind constantly nagging about the _what-ifs_ ,” Jaskier says with his head in his hands, hastily wiping the tears that escaped.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean anything that time. It’s true I was angry and that I wanted space. But when you left me, I realized how lonely I was. When I felt like everything was too much, I never felt helpless because you were by my side, Jask. I took your presence for granted, thinking you would still be with me no matter what and I regret that so much.”

He throws a glare at Geralt before he looks away, not ready to face him yet. “I deserve _better_ , Geralt. I’m not some fucking rug you can step on whenever you’re hurt and yet still expect me to be your loyal _dog_. I knew you were hurt, I do, but _I_ have feelings as well. I can’t just absorb your anger and let it go. I get hurt as well. I get tired,” he snaps, ignoring the hurt that flashed on Geralt’s face.

“You’re not a rug or a dog,” Geralt says. “You’re the man that I _love_ , believe me. I’ve never regretted anything more in my life. I regret hurting you like that, and I regret letting you leave when you thought I never cared for you. I regret not fighting for you.”

Jaskier sniffles. “Huh, I wouldn’t know.”

There’s a dull sound, and he blinks his eyes open again, ignoring the tears that have clung to his lashes. Jaskier nearly scrambles away when he realizes that Geralt is kneeling in front of him. “What—”

“You are a man that I love and someone so special to me. You’re loved by _many_ , friends and family, and even strangers. Hurting you and making you doubt your worth is the biggest mistake of my life,” Geralt says and for the first time in months, Jaskier looks at him.

His green eyes are clear, the clearest he has seen since they broke up, and there’s a touch of determination in Geralt’s face with the way he clenches his jaw. Geralt’s hands are minutely trembling where they are holding onto the sofa, enclosing Jaskier’s legs within, but not touching. Jaskier remembers that Geralt’s unwavering resolve when decided, is a force he’s helpless to. And a reason why he loves this man.

“You deserve better—no, the _best_. I know that I’m not the best, and someone out there _is_ , but I want it that it’s _me_ who’s by your side. I’ll change and become someone deserving of you, Jaskier. Let me work for it. Let me earn your forgiveness and your love, please. I want to fight for us. Another chance, I’m begging you,” Geralt says, his voice cracking at the end.

In the two years they’ve been together, Jaskier has never seen the other man shed a tear. Geralt isn’t openly crying like Jaskier is, but his green eyes are shining with unshed tears.

“You’d do that?” Jaskier asks.

“I’d do that and _more_. Anything.”

“I’ll make you work extra hard for it, you asshole.”

“And I expect nothing less. Please,” Geralt says, “let me prove myself once again.”

The brunet sniffs, composing himself as he wipes the tear tracks off his cheeks. “I’m not easy,” Jaskier answers.

“You’re not supposed to be easy, Jask. You never were.” Geralt smiles at him. “I want to earn everything you’ll give me.”

Slowly and carefully, still afraid and hesitant, he gathers Geralt’s hands in his. He can’t help the small smile on his face when he hears Geralt’s soft intake of breath at the touch. “I do, as well,” he says. “I still do love you.”

Geralt releases a shaky laugh, disbelieving. “I— I’m surprised you still do. How can you be real?” he mutters, an inch closer now.

“I haven’t forgiven you. Not yet, anyway. I really was hurt… and I don’t want to experience it again,” Jaskier admits, his voice small and weak.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier laughs, vulnerable as him. “But I want to give you another chance, too. Can I trust you with that?”

“Don’t. Do it when you think I’ve shown you that you can.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Jaskier says again. Just like that, they bask at the moment, quiet and peaceful and hopeful with the promise of a chance, of something new and _better_ , then, “We’re stupid. And embarrassing. Stupid and embarrassing.”

Geralt’s smile widens, his teeth peeking, and Jaskier feels his heart flutter because he allowed it to do so. “I know,” Geralt says, and Jaskier wonders when he became this close to Jaskier’s space. He’s not complaining, though. “I want to kiss you,” he admits, softly with a twinge of nervousness, and Jaskier can see the tip of Geralt’s ears redden even under the moonlight.

“Me too,” Jaskier says without thought because it’s the truth.

“Will you let me?”

And since Jaskier has deprived himself of this for months, and since he’s so _tired_ of being strong, for once, he gives in. “Please.”

Then Geralt’s lips are on his and before he knew it, his eyes are closed, gently pulling Geralt into an embrace when he threw his arms around him. The kiss is soft and tentative, surprisingly, given how much _wanting_ he can feel from Geralt. But the man is still hesitant, nervous that if he asks for more, if he takes more than he’s allowed to, Jaskier will run away. Slowly, Geralt leans more into their kiss, his weight pushing him down, and Jaskier sighs with how much he missed this, Geralt’s hands burning his waist. The comfort and warmth. It’s sweet and short, but it felt like it lasted minutes. Blue eyes open once again when he feels a hand cupping his cheek, thumb softly caressing under his left eye.

“I love you, Jask, so much.”

His heart swells and, okay, his eyes are watering again. “Me, too,” he says, then with a small chuckle, “We’re still exes, though.”

“That’s alright,” Geralt says with that sure smile of his that Jaskier loves. “I’ll work hard to change that, I promise.”

He’s already on a good start because Jaskier is soft like that, but he keeps that to himself. He won’t make it _easy_. After all, he still has to make Geralt earn his love back.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually don't know the point of this but I decided to post it anyway. Hope you enjoyed it! :)


End file.
